Chapter Four

"You do know this isn't...how familes are supposed to behave, don't you?" He'd asked her softly.

She lay on her side, watching him dress, comfortably lethargic after the act. She felt sated, validated. She felt...beautiful. Because she was, to him.

He buttoned his shirt clumsily, looking down at her, as she languished on the bed, partly covered by her white bedsheet. The soft yellow glow of the lamps in her room lit her pale skin as if from within. Her head was resting on one hand as she regarded him, her eyes alone betraying her feelings. She drank in every detail of him. The faint lines on his face, the pale green of his eyes, his soft hair.

"We're not like them, daddy." She saw him visibly flinch, and she looked downcast for a moment, "I know that."

She looked up to see that resignation had overcome his face. He sat down heavily on the bed, pulling the sheet more securely up and over Shilo's body. Protecting her. Keeping her safe. Loving her. He touched her cheek, and she saw sorrow in his eyes.

"I love you, precious."

She smiled sweetly up at him, laying back on her pillow as he kissed her forehead.

She couldn't have a normal life, she knew that. She probably never would. She slipped her hand into his, feeling tiredness begin to overwhelm her. Rain was falling outside, she could hear it on the rooftop, the soft pitter patter that drummed the shingles. She drifted into a deep sleep as he sat with her, holding her hand. He stayed with her until the sun rose, simply staring blankly down at her face, watching her breathe. In and out. In and out. Like a melody. Her small, warm hand was the only sensation that mattered, as the rain poured still.

Lila wasn't a bad person, Shilo mused. She may have even been a kind person, actually. But Shilo knew to keep her guard up. It had slipped once already, given way to grief in front of this stranger. It wouldn't do to happen again. This woman wouldn't understand things if she knew the whole truth. She wouldn't understand Shilo's relationship with her father. She apparently didn't know Nathan's profession, and Shilo wanted it to stay that way. Somehow, she felt the desperate need to protect her father's memory. To keep his secrets. They were hers now, her secrets, and she would hold them close. She felt that if anyone else knew, somehow it would taint him. Taint his memory. She had to keep his memory pure and clean, for he was a good man. The knew this fact, was sure of it. Hadn't he protected her? Hadn't he always loved her? Misguided perhaps. Inappropriate, sometimes. But it had been for her. He'd done it all for her, in his own way. For she had been his world. And he had been hers. As she watched the world move around her, safe from her window, safe from the cruelty and the pain. Oh, but she had felt pain. She knew this. She'd felt pain and bitter sweet rapture. But in his own way, hadn't he kept her safe? She knew he had. In his own way.

She boarded the subway, the assortment of passengers pressing in on her like a tide. So many people in this city, this bustling, aching metropolis of metal and harsh light. The subway was frightening and new, gathering speed out of the station and the tunnels rushed past like a dream, a blur of colour and light. She felt a dizziness that began in her head and caused black spots in her vision. Clinging to a rail on the wall, trying to shake the feeling but it seemed to overpower her. She closed her eyes, feeling waves of nausea creep over her like a tide. She waited for them to pass but her feet were unsteady. The subway was slowing, the carriage clattered to a stop at the next station. She tried to see what stop they were pulling into but found her vision alarmingly blurred, found herself unable to focus on the masses outside on the platform. She shuddered, legs feeling like jelly. Tried to remember the names of the stations, tried to remember the details she'd looked up on the computer. She'd had no idea about travelling into the heart of the city, to reach her destination and meet with Lila. But her father's computer had made it easy, just type in the address and read the details that appeared on the the screen to tell her how to reach it. But now, on her way back to her house, to his house, to the place that had been her prison so long, she suddenly could not stand.

I'm going to fall down.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as nausea rode over her at full force. The lights were too harsh, people too bustling. She fought to stay upright, clinging to the rail with white knuckles as sounds became hollow and far away, as the passengers around her blurred and twisted into nothing. The last thing she was aware of were strong hands grabbing at her shoulders, holding her upright as her legs gave way under her.

"Kid?! Are you okay?"

And then it all went black.

She's running through endless, darkened streets. Her feet make no noise on the pavement and she can't seem to go as fast as she'd like to. She's searching, running towards something just out of her reach. Got to get there, got to find it, got to find it quickly. She knows there isn't much time. She must find it fast. She runs down alleys, finding dead ends forcing her to retrace her steps. Blind Mag's face grins at her from posters on the walls, she runs past them, desperate and longing to reach her destination. She goes through gates, around fences, past brick and steel and shadowy places. She takes a right, a left. She sees him ahead of her at last, walking quickly away from her.

"Dad!"

Her voice comes out in a whisper although she tries to yell. He disappears through a doorway, an archway in a stone wall stewn with the posters and propaganda that litter the city, and she's pounding down the pavement after him, crying. Tears, sobs, sadness, desperation. She runs through the doorway after him, finding a flight of stairs. She races up them, up and up and up. Finally she's at the top and runs down a narrow passage. It's shadowy and frightening, no light, only darkness, and she runs through it fearfully. All at once she reaches the end of the passage and it opens up to reveal her bedroom. Yellow light, comforting and familiar, But her room! It's flooded with water. The water is up to her knees. And she's wading through the water, searching with her eyes for him. He's on the balcony, and she runs to him, the water splashing but it isn't cold. She can't feel anything but desperation and sorrow. She hesitates as she reaches him. His back is to her and he's looking out over the black ornate fence to the city below and around them. It seems to be burning, everything alight and aglow with flames that lick the billboards, the buildings, everything. But she knows, the flames won't touch them. They are safe here.

"Dad...I was looking for you." She says, touching his arm.

He turns to face her, small sad smile playing on his face. He isn't wearing his glasses. "Are you sure it was me you were looking for?" He asks softly. The flames cast flickering lights over his face.

"I don't..." She began, at a loss for words.

"Can't you see it? It's right there." He said, emphatically.

"What do you mean?" She asks, desperately clutching at his arm, so confused and sad.

"It isn't up to me. I wish it were, precious."

She throws herself into his arms, clinging to him desperately, feeling a desperation that consumes her being. She starts to cry again, bitterly, "Don't go!" She screams, "Please, don't go! Daddy!"

She woke up with wet cheeks and burning eyes. She was still sobbing, cries that wracked her whole body and came out like screams. She sat up hurriedly, trying to fight the sobs back, tears coursing down her cheeks. They fell like rain drops onto the white, sterile cotton blanket that was over her. Presently, she realised she was in an altogether unfamiliar place. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, looking around nervously. A hospital room. Harsh light. She'd never been in one before of course but she knew what one looked like well enough from movies and TV. At the foot of her bed the Graverobber sat on a grey plastic chair, looking at her with a curious but detached expression.

"Oh...it's you again." She said, her voice cracked and raw from crying.

Crying in her sleep. It was a strange feeling. The detials of her dream were falling away, but she clung to them, letting the sorrow and loss wash over her like water.

"Indeed." He said simply, standing up from his seat with a theatrical flourish.

Shilo looked around fearfully, the events of the day rushing back ot her. Her appointment in the city with Lila, the subway. She swallowed nervously, "What happened?"

The Graverobber walked to stand next to her bed and looked down at her, not unkindly, "You fainted, kid. Coudln't wake you up, so I brought you here." He gestured to the hospital room, "I was looking for you, actually. It's not safe for you to go home right now."

She felt a tingle of fear, "Not...safe?" She asked softly.

He shook his head, small smirk playing on his black lips, "Miss Amber Sweet wants to tie up loose ends."

Shilo looked at him, a quizzical expression on her face. "What?"

The Graverobber seemed to sigh, although his expression was good humoured. "Rotti Largo was going to leave you all of Geneco." He stated simply, "She's not too happy about that. None of the Largo kids are." Shilo was still looking at him with that questioning look so he added, "Jealousy is a nasty thing."

Shilo nodded slowly. So. Amber wanted revenge. Deep down, Shilo mused, it was evident that Amber was just a girl desperate for her father's approval. If her own father, Nathan, had favoured another child over his own, it would have been heart wrenching. Of course she hated Rotti, for he had murdered her father, destroyed his life, and hers. The only life she'd ever known. The only person she'd ever truly known or loved. Rotti was the reason for her suffering, for her pain. But he had also been a father himself, and had so hurt his children. Of course they wanted revenge. It filled her with terror, but she understood. She trembled, looking down at the drip which was lodged in the top of her left hand. She had no problem with needles, for her father had regularly taken her blood for testing. Hold out her arm, feel his tender touch, sharp sting of the needle. But this thing, sticking into her flesh, was alien and unfamiliar to her. She longed to be gone from this place, from this bed. Where she longed to be, she wasn't so sure. Home was now an alien concept. That shadowy house didn't feel like home anymore. Lila was going to find her a new home. Someplace far away from here. From the city, from Geneco, from the house that held all of her memories. Somehow, she needed to be far away from it all.

The door of the ward opened, revealing an elderly man in a white hospital gown. A doctor. He walked to the side of her bed and regarded Shilo, glancing at his clipboard and making a slight grimace.

"Shilo Wallace?" He said simply.

She looked up at him, hardly seeing him. The doctor acknowledged the Graverobber who was still standing at the foot of her bed, in his ragged clothes and with his brightly coloured hair. His presence seemed absurd, yet comforting. Something familiar to cling to.

The doctor consulted his clipboard again, tut tutting with a nonchalance that slightly irritated Shilo.

"What's wrong with me?" She asked softly, eyes on the drip in her hand.

The doctor regarded her calmly, "You seem to be of good health, iron levels a little low. Traces of a mixture of drugs in your system. You need to cut that out."

Shilo frowned, regarding him icily. She said nothing. She felt a mixture of hunger and the familiar nausea which was becoming more constant in her.

"I don't take drugs." She said firmly. Seeing his unconvinced face she added, "Not anymore."

Her father had drugged her for so long. She fought back a wave of tears at the now irrefutable fact of that. She had been healthy all this time. All this time. She thought she was sick, but he made her. His medicine...His poison. Did he ever have any intention of curing her? Had he wanted to keep her sick forever? To keep her in his prison? Keep her locked in her room until she was old and died? Obviously he'd realised that she would outlive him. Obviously, since he'd taken the time to draw up a will. Was he just crazy, though? Was the man she adored and sometimes hated, just a lunatic? She wanted to cry, cry until she had no tears left. Maybe he'd been crazy, but he still had loved her. She knew that. It was the one thing she could cling to. He had loved her. In every sense of the word. Noun and verb. Love. Father. Dad. Daddy. Love....Lover.

Lila had given her a letter, a thick feeling envelope. It had her name on the front, in her father's hand writing. A letter for her. It was unopened in her satchel. If she opened it...then he'd never give her anything again. She had no intention of opening it, not yet. Where was her bag, she now wondered. Ah. She spotted it, crumpled on the floor by the hospital bed. She felt a surge of relief. His letter was in there. And his glasses. She wanted to reach down and grab it, but was brought back to reality from her thoughts, by the doctor's voice.

"You're aware, then," he said, delicately, "That you are pregnant?"